


a mercy

by illycrium



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dubious Consent, Elf, F/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 07:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illycrium/pseuds/illycrium
Summary: a drabble i never finished. An elf slave named Girl gets fucked by her master.





	a mercy

It was a mercy, she believed. The stone was cold under her bare feet, but it was better than the dank stables or the frost-tipped grass. She stepped onto the rug, dug her toes into it and shivered, eyes lowered.

“Girl,” he said her name, and she jerked her head up. Her eyes were bright and hopeful, a fire that slavery never managed to snuff out. His gaze dropped back down to the map laid across the desk--endless lines and squiggles that Girl could never hope to understand. She inched forward, hands on her skirt.

The general set his quill down, ran his fingers through his hair and pulled it from the tie at the nape of his neck. Girl felt her quim moisten, like the maw of a dog at the scent of food. The other slaves pitied her for this. The other elven girls would wince and look away when she returned with a limp and squatted down in the washroom to clean herself out with cold water until it ran clear of blood and semen.

But Girl was hopeful. This was an honor. She, in such an easy way, could turn the General’s ear. Like nobody else, she could lift her skirt just a few inches and savor the way his eyes would wander from his men, his duty, just to eye a slip of soft skin. Not even the General’s fiercest enemies could distract him from a task at hand, and Girl managed to cut him off mid-sentence simply by pulling down the collar of her gown and exposing herself to him and only him.

He punished her for it, in his own way. But she had long grown to find his punishments nothing more than another way for her to wrap him around her finger. 

At his behest, she stepped beside him, skirt already clenched in her fingers. He looked her up and down. A cursory glance, but far more than he graced others with. She knew she was glowing with pride.

“In the courtyard,” he began, his voice rough. Girl could feel it vibrate in her belly when he spoke, “explain to me, exactly, what that was.”

The elf bit her lip, coy, liked she knew he liked, and swirled her skirts. “You like my teats.”

The general’s eyes narrowed sharply, and before she could react, he had taken hold of the top of her dress and torn it clean off her body. 

The back of her head struck the desk sharply, a resounding thud echoing through the room. For a moment, she saw only stars and the swirling pattern of the stone above her. The chandelier’s lights glimmered so prettily--

“Ow!”

He bit, pulled, ground his teeth around her sensitive skin until her yelp turned into a cry. His hands tore her thighs apart, spread her ankles wide until her hips felt like they would snap at the joint. 

He bit and snapped his way down her body, pulling and pinching skin between his teeth, like he was ripping meat from a bone. It nearly felt like it, and Girl grabbed at his shoulders, gripping tightly to brace herself.

He was like fucking a great storm. She was helpless in his grasp, quaking in his wake and unable to do anything but scream and sob as hands like stone left bruises and marks and pushed fingers into her mouth until she choked around her screams. 

It was useless to struggle, and so she didn’t. 

He turned her over, and her feet touched the cold stone floor again. She was back in reality, breath stuttering and eyes wide. His hand on her hip, pushing to her pelvis and angling her back so he could push the tip of his penis against her pussy. She gasped, hands braced on the desk. The map wrinkled underneath her palms, a cool inkwell brushing against her pinky finger. 

He pushed inside, seared past her entrance until she could feel him in the pit of her belly. Filling her up, pinning her against him with a fist around a handful of hair. She coughed wetly, distantly and suddenly aware of the tears and snot streaking down her face.

The general bent over her, fucking into her like a desperate animal in rut. It ached during and it ached after, left her a bloody mess and had her gagging around his fingers in the pain of it.

“Master!” 

He took her by the hair and slammed her face into the desk. Her nose crunched against the desk, smeared blood against the map that the general wouldn’t bother to explain later. He was not the type of man to explain his actions. 

She drooled, she bled into the map and she idly wondered how long the mapmaker had spent creating it. 

“Ow,” Girl’s hand dove back, pushed against his pelvis in an instinctual bid to slow his thrusts down, to stop him from hammering into her cervix. It hurt. Her whole lower half felt like a great bruise.

“Master, please,” she kicked her feet, and he angled her pelvis back with a palm so that her feet lifted off the ground, kicking uselessly and her pained whines blossoming into screams. “Please, it hurts--please--”

He wrapped his fingers around her throat, because her shrieking hurt his ears and he much preferred to hear her gag and choke.


End file.
